French Open 2013: Roger Federer looked old in his defeat by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga. So expect him to win Wimbledon

As soon as I saw this picture in Wednesday’s Telegraph, I headed
to the bookies. The snap shows Roger Federer stretching for a ball during
his defeat by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the quarter-finals of the French Open.
And in the photo, the greatest tennis player of his generation does not look
happy.

Yesterday's man: Roger Federer was suddenly looking old as he reached for a forehand during his defeat by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga at the French Open Photo: AFP

True, even as he reached forlornly for a backhand, the ball already zipping past his racquet, he remains outwardly unflustered, with nary a bead of sweat breaking on his brow.

His coolness may have been undimmed, but what he looks as he is given the runaround by the heavyweight, pummelling, whacking Frenchman is something more debilitating: for a moment he looks old. As Tsonga rampages, he suddenly seemed past it, a spent force, yesterday’s man. His gaunt expression says only one thing: retirement is surely now imminent.

Which is why, even as the odds lengthen exponentially, it seems the perfect time to put money on him winning Wimbledon. In fact, studying that picture of him seemingly lost and forlorn, apparently arthritic and creaking, the only astonishment will be if Roger Federer drops a set on his way to retaining his All England title.

This is what the implacably smooth champion does as he reaches his sporting dotage: he gives the impression that it is all over just before staging a perfectly timed comeback. Writing off Federer has become a routine of the tennis circuit. And just as routine has been the subsequent requirement to make a meal of such dismissive words.

Sure, Federer is now 31. Sure, he has yet to win anything this season. Sure, the twinges in his back are becoming more frequent and more aggressive. But the notion that he is finished at the top of the game is not just premature. It is laughable.

The thing about Federer is that he has always played to his own set of rules. When he was at the summit of his powers six or seven years ago, he appeared not to indulge in any kind of exertion. He could beat the most vigorous thrasher with barely any suggestion of effort.

While opponents changed their sweat-soaked shirts after every set, he looked as if he had just stepped out of an air-conditioned lounge. As a psychological ploy, it was untouchable. It gave him an aura of utter invincibility. That and a range of strokes previously thought only to exist in the imagination.

As he has got older, however, the assumption of superiority has been more frequently challenged. Though the mask of effortlessness has never slipped, the defeats have become more frequent. It is not just Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic who can get the better of him these days.

Juan Martin Del Potro, Tomas Berdych, Robin Soderling and Tsonga have all done it in recent slams. Andy Murray did it at the Olympics. It appears that from a position of total pre-eminence he has been brought back into the chasing pack, dragged down from Olympus to mere mortality. From once being the one and only, he is now no more than one of the boys.

But that does not mean it is over. That does not mean he should hang up his headband and retire to the Swiss mountains to tend to the herd of prize cows he has accumulated over the years, one for every slam. Especially not when his competitive instinct remains undimmed. This is the thing about Federer: beneath that elegant exterior bubbles a boiling determination to win.

You could see that in last year’s Wimbledon final. When Murray won the first set, it seemed as if the plotline was running to a pre-ordained script. A home Wimbledon champion in Olympic year: the force, not to mention the overwhelming majority of the centre court crowd, appeared to be with the Scotsman. There were many convinced this was the moment. We should have known.

Instead of the saltire flying proud above the All England Club, centre court was subject to a display of astonishing competitiveness by the Swiss. Simply refusing to be beaten, Federer hauled back the momentum by sheer force of will. Even against an opponent as determined as Murray, he simply refused to accept defeat. It was a comeback which perfectly encapsulated his latter career: at the very point you think it is over, he storms back.

With Nadal and Murray both circumscribed by injury, with Djokovic distracted by off-court issues, opportunity is opening up for Federer to retain his Wimbledon crown. But it is that defeat by Tsonga and its seeming apocalyptic implications for his legacy that will provide the greatest incentive.

He has no interest in defeat becoming the motif of his twilight playing years. He wants more cows before he bows out. Holding up the trophy in Wimbledon’s centre court on July 7 is the most unequivocal way of demonstrating it is not over for Roger Federer. Only the unwise would bet against it.